


The Locket

by ilien



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Jaskier is Renfri's Son, That's it, that's the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilien/pseuds/ilien
Summary: Geralt discovers he and Jaskier have a piece of shared history they didn't know about.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 232
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	The Locket

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kinkmeme fill for [this prompt](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=84397):  
>  _"So according to Netflix, Jaskier was born in 1222, but according to the witcher wiki (and The Tower of the Swallow?) he was born in 1229.  
>  If we say he was born in 1229, then he would have been about two years old when Renfri died. And Renfri would have been about 16-ish when Jaskier was born._  
>  _So, Jaskier as Renfri's son._  
>  _Geralt was told 'the girl in the woods will be with you, always', he just didn't know how many different ways Destiny would snare him with that one line."_
> 
> This was betaed by the perfect [Eveth_21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eveth_21). All the remaining mistakes are mine, please do tell me if you see any.
> 
> See a spoliery warning in the endnotes.

“What—” Geralt picks up the locket. It’s broken now, the hinge crooked and almost torn; it will cost some good coin to have it repaired. The portrait inside, however, is luckily intact, and that’s the most important part. 

Jaskier reaches to take it from Geralt’s hands, but the Witcher pulls away. “Where did you get this, Jaskier?” he demands. 

“A Naming day gift. From my father. Can I have it back, please? I’m very attached to it, you know.” Geralt complies, but not before he examines it like it’s a priceless artifact. Which it is, of course, but only to Julian.

“Who is this woman to you?” Geralt asks, returning the locket. He looks — intense. Like it’s a very important question and the lives of the entire Continent depend on Jaskier’s answer. “Did you know her?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jaskier asks. “Would I wear a portrait of a woman I never knew on my neck all my life? Wait a minute, don’t answer that, I would, I absolutely would, wouldn’t I? That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, if you think about it.”

“Who. Is. This. Woman. To you.”

“Whoa, Geralt, take a deep breath, what the fuck! No, I didn’t know her. I was too little when she left and still too little when she died. She’s my—was my mother. I never knew her, like I said. She was—” He’s rudely interrupted by Geralt grabbing his chin in a grip that’s a little too strong and staring at him with a stare that’s a little—a lot—too intense. He studies Jaskier’s face like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“The girl in the woods...” he mutters, cryptically, and then, “You don’t look much like her,” and lets go.

“Yeah, I take after my father, mostly. A shame, that. She was pretty.”

“She was,” Geralt agrees. “I didn’t know she was married.”

“She wasn’t. I’m illegitimate, my father officially acknowledged me when—wait. Did you know her?”

Geralt nods, but doesn’t offer an explanation. Instead, he turns around and picks up his sword.

“Oh, nonono, you don’t get to quit this conversation with ‘I need to sharpen my sword, shut up, Jaskier’! You knew my mother! And I didn’t!” He needs all the details he can get. 

“Because of me,” Geralt says, and holds out the sword, handle first. “I killed her with this sword. This was hers,” he nods at the handle.

“What—why—how—” Jaskier doesn’t know where to start asking as he absentmindedly takes the sword and stares at the decoration on its handle. It’s always looked a little out of place, grinning from the Witcher’s sword, and Jaskier has asked about it multiple times over the years, getting a grunt or an angry ‘Shut up!’ in reply.

“I didn’t know she had a child,” Geralt says. “I don’t think it would have made a difference if I had.”

Jaskier nods, dumbfounded. Knowing Geralt, if it were any other woman, he’d ask, ‘What did she do?’ — but it’s his mother, whom his father mourned to the end of his days, and he can’t quite get himself to ask the question.

“Silver is for monsters, but—” Geralt swallows, “but steel is harder, a Witcher is easier to kill with steel.” 

Jaskier is still staring at the thing that was evidently his mother’s—pendant? Brooch? Hairpin?—and doesn’t get Geralt’s meaning right away. When he does, he looks up, and Geralt’s just standing there, arms to his sides, looking at him with expectation and something that looks terrifyingly like hope.

“What?” Jaskier asks. “What’s that supposed to mean? Because if you mean what I think you mean, Geralt, I swear to gods—”

“I killed your mother, Julian, you have a right to revenge.”

“So, this is the day you choose to use my given name I didn’t even know you KNEW. Are you out of your crazy little mind? Did those ghouls last night eat what was left of your brain? How do you picture it, really? I kill my best friend of almost thirty years because half a century ago he—” he can’t quite spell it out, yet. “And by that logic, Cirilla will have to kill me, and my no doubt numerous bastards will be forced to come after her, and then, what, Roach will have to hunt down every one of them?”

“Hmm.”

“And where would I be, too? I just found out that you knew my mother, whom I—did I mention?—never got to meet. This is the story you absolutely must tell me and you won’t get out with a ‘hmm’ or a ‘shut up’. Nonono, you don’t get rid of me by throwing yourself on your own sword, don’t even think about it, got it?”

Geralt nods, but says nothing.

“Okay, so—did you really kill her with this sword?”

“No. It was her dagger.”

“Uh-uh. And—just a wild guess, here, correct me if I’m wrong—she threw herself on it, like you just tried to do?”

“You don’t know. She didn’t want to die.”

“Oh, I don’t know, do I? Why would that be, really? Probably because one mighty Witcher never tells me anything? But let me tell you what I do know. I know you. I’ve known you for close to thirty years, and I know what kind of man you are, and that’s not the kind of man who kills innocent women. So, knowing that, and knowing that I never really met her, there are just two ways it could be: either she was a monster—” Geralt shakes his head so violently that Jaskier thinks, with a nervous smirk, that it might fall off, “or it was something beyond either hers or your control. One of you was mind-controlled. She killed herself with her own weapon you happened to be holding. There was a third party who forced you to fight each other. She was trying to rob you in the night. You were just passing by and couldn’t save her from whatever happened, so you decided it was all your fault. Stop me when it gets warm.”

“She was not a monster. I wasn’t just passing by. We weren’t mind-controlled.” He doesn’t argue any further.

“Okay. Good. Can we sit down and talk about it? Tell me the story. I’m listening.”

**Author's Note:**

> TW: When Geralt discovers that Jaskier is Renfri's son, his guilt drives him to offer his life to Jaskier. That can be seen as suicidal behavior; please be careful if that's your trigger.
> 
>   
> Please check out the other fill for the same prompt [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886572)! It's awesome!


End file.
